The Halloween March
by Waxmetal
Summary: Michael Myers is back, and it's the future. What will his distant relatives do in order to save all of America when EVERY DAY is Halloween?


Author's note: I'd like to discredit a myth. I don't own Halloween. I don't own it. Miramax does. This story is in memory of a guy who killed himself. He will be missed by his family, maybe.

Chapter 1: The Government is Dumb

Star Ellen woke up tired and unaware of her surroundings. Shaking off the sky blue sheets that kept her warm despite their cold color, she stood up and folded her arms.

"My God, where am I?" she shouted, "This is the worst place ever!" The room was empty save herself, the bed and the sky blue sheets of wonder. The door was locked, the walls were grey, the light on the ceiling shone so bright she could barely even see her own shadow, not that she had one. She was too pure and good to have a shadow.

Pondering over how she could've gotten where she was, Star Ellen began to cry and bang on the door, her soft hands becoming fruitless bludgeons against the unmoving door of sorrow and agony and jail. She wept silently on the hard bed for several hours, tinting the sky blue sheets a deeper shade with her tears.

"I hate being locked up. It is bad. What if I die?"

After a day she was losing hope, her fragile mind toying with itself, shattering like little bits of glass that are made out of glass. She drew on her face with her own poop and said

"Poop is good on my face." Her tears wept the poop away. Two days passed, and she grew so thirsty her stomach pains were unbearable, belching bile and blood onto the grey floor. The room now resembled a painting... of death.

Finally the door opened, welcoming her to the outside world, on the end of the second day. She tried to lighten up, but her cheeks were so flushed that it looked like her face was made out of snow. The most beautiful snow in the world.

"Hello Star Ellen. We are the group. Follow us to sanctimonious heavenly death. Your arrival will keep you alive. Do not be so profound." The voice echoed out and welcomed a man into the room. Star Ellen stared at his features. He had neatly combed black hair, a matching black suit, and black shoes that were so black they looked like portals from space.

"Who are you?" she wondered. She couldn't speak, her voice so deprived of water.

Two men, faces covered, walked in with a stretcher and violently placed her on it, despite receiving no struggle. They forced water down her throat with a bucket made out of platinum. On the side of it she saw her face and remembered what she looked like. Her memory was very short, so she had forgotten.

"My eyes are brown, my hair is brown. It is magnificent. I am but a beautiful girl, my breasts just beginning to bud. My skin is an ivory white at the moment but soon it will be a lovely darkish hue of Caucasian. And I'm a Leo, and I love dogs."

They carried her to a room far away from where she was locked up, speaking only one name. Michael Myers. She didn't know who this was, but she was curious because it reminded her of the sun. This was because she was dumb.

The room was lit only by a fireplace the size of a house and an even bigger HDTV displaying a news report on pause. There were ancient swords covering every inch of the wall.

"So Star Ellen, do you like my swords?" the man spoke, pointing his finger all across the room at them. She tried to speak.

"They're okay."

They placed her in a wheelchair made of red silk and steel.

"Star Ellen, this was passed down through many generations by the worlds greatest scientists and handicaps. We want you to have it... for now." The man cracked a smile, and that crack broke Star Ellen in half.

"WHERE AM I?" she shouted in a hoarse voice.

"Why, you're right here." he asked in a sense, not knowing how she didn't know where she was.

"NO BUT WHERE IS HERE?" she screamed.

"Here is where you'll learn all the tricks of the trade."

"Oh."

They pressed a button on a remote control shaped like a gun and her wheelchair turned into a bike. She sat on it and rode around the room.

"Star Ellen, be careful." Her and the man were the only ones in the room now, the fireplace illuminating them.

Star Ellen was but 13 years old, and she was already being given a motorcycle wheelchair. It was the greatest day of her life, or it would've been, except she heard the worst thing ever only seconds later.

"Turn on news." said the man. The HDTV responded in the most awesome voice Star Ellen had ever heard.

"Yes. Sir." A reporter came on the TV announcing a victory over every other country. A video played beside him showing the president of the United States announcing his new plans to create a better America. He looked stern, and he spoke slowly, and he raised his hand and clenched his fist. Today was the day America would be changed forever, he said. The reporter watched carefully.

The man Star Ellen was with began to sweat, hoping his worst fears would not be realized. Star Ellen looked puzzled, and asked what he was worried about.

"Just watch young girl. Just watch." She revved her wheelchair bike and watched.

The president finally spit it out.

"EVERY DAY IS HALLOWEEN!" The crowds cheered, the reporter fell over and shouts of joy could be heard even outside the building.

"Today," the president said, "November 2nd, is Halloween. Every day following this day will be Halloween. Forever. As everyone knows, Halloween is the scariest day ever. Even scarier than 9/11. If America is scared every day forever, soon they will never be scared at all. And what can a country fear if it can't be afraid? This is the best idea ever." He walked off the platform. The entire country chanted in agreement.

"YES! BEST IDEA EVER!"

Star Ellen felt the hairs on her neck not move at all, and she wondered what was wrong. The man looked at her and said

"Have you ever met your uncle Michael?"

"No," Star Ellen replied.

"You're going to." He looked at the floor and died a little on the inside. The carpet was red like blood, and he knew that soon every carpet in America would look the same. He cried tears of beautiful death.

"This is the worst day ever!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

The man was the reincarnation of Dr. Sam Loomis, and he lived in the year 2499.


End file.
